


The Corruption that Binds

by BisMaledictus



Category: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: M/M, Written for a contest four years ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 01:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7738552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BisMaledictus/pseuds/BisMaledictus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Have you ever had a dream that felt as if it was showing you a glimpse of the future? Ever had these visions that seem so real that when you return to reality you can still feel those sighs as if they were whispering to you in a seductive voice, urging you to go out into the world and seek them out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Corruption that Binds

**Author's Note:**

> A little background on this unusual piece. Four years ago there was a contest on DeviantArt hosted by a Dragon Age group. The theme was "Romance the Unromanceable". We could use any media form. So I chose to make this difficult for myself and used the Architect AND fan fiction which wasn't an overly popular format. I had issues submitting it before the deadline but was allowed late entry because they saw I was having problems. Needless to say, I didn't win or even get a vote. Originally submitted on FanFiction.net under the username Darkmaster2. Felt like resubmitting here. Don't hate me too much.

Have you ever had a dream that felt as if it was showing you a glimpse of the future? Ever had these visions that seem so real that when you return to reality you can still feel those sighs as if they were whispering to you in a seductive voice, urging you to go out into the world and seek them out?  
  
If not, you’re lucky. Those urgings can lead to very… strange situations with even stranger people… or otherwise.  
  
That was how all this started. These strange dreams started to happen. At first the Warden-Commander dismissed the dreams as side effects of the recent events. What with having an intelligent horde of dark spawn after one’s life, being subjected to an unplanned trip to the Fade, going into another long forgotten Thaig and nearly being dismembered by the Children, plus unfortunately getting another look into Oghren’s sex life… who wouldn’t have strange dreams afterwards.  
  
And yet… something wasn’t right. The dreams weren’t just repeating but elaborating. Becoming more alluring as if someone was trying to call him, communicate with him. The first one had been but a whispering shadow in his mind but now each one was becoming clearer, stronger, more defined, more convincing as well. After each repeat it was becoming more and more unlikely that these were just a product of having too much on the mind.  
  
Finally, after almost two weeks of these messages the Warden decided enough was enough. That night when the dream had surfaced he put all his concentration into finding the other presence and when that was accomplished he focused on giving a message of his own, “I’ll answer your call.”  
  
With the rising of the sun the Commander had set out. It had taken some use of his silver tongue to convince the others to let him leave on his own. But the others were needed there and he had a feeling this wouldn’t take long. Though this didn’t stop his fellow Wardens from issuing a threat to him. If he didn’t return within a week they would search for him.  
  
\--  
  
The heavy door creaked as the lone Warden forced it to reveal the dark passage.  
  
The Silverite Mine.  
  
It was just as it had been the first time through the only difference was the unnerving feeling of unseen eyes watching him as he ventured into the old tunnels was replaced by a gentle pull into the back of his subconscious. It was like a hand was on his back pushing to his destination. There was another feeling hidden within the first. A more familiar sensation it made the darkness in his blood hum in response. A darkspawn’s presence, only one.  
  
Still he pushed on through into the tunnels towards this darkspawn and the source of his dreams. With each step everything was starting to make more sense. He knew who was behind all of this which left only the why. Mixed feelings were creeping to the surface; he knew he should turn back before the gate to an unknown trap snapped closed. However, his feet would not stop and if he was truly correct in his speculations then the door to the mine was sealed shut until the other being saw fit to release him.  
  
\--  
  
It was quiet and the air was fouler then before thanks to the bodies of the darkspawn and dragon young rotting in the darkness. The only light was a hand full of torches that seemed to flicker to life as he approached and die again once he had past.  
  
‘I’m being led,’ the Commander thought to himself quietly.  
  
Soon the rough walls of the mine were replaced by uniformed, smooth corridors. The dark mine had given way to the ancient ruin he and his companions had been imprisoned in. Part of him actually wished to be left in the mine because there was just something to depressing about standing in the ruin of a lost culture. Sorrow always managed to appear in his heart at the thought of what this place could have been or what it was once and to whom. He felt like he was trespassing… but there was nothing to be done about it now.  
  
As the last door stood between him and his reason for coming this far his feet stopped moving as if by their own will as last minute thoughts sprung up again. Some saying this wasn’t right. How this had to be a trap. While others argued back that if he was meant to be captured or killed the other being would be acting differently.  
  
As if to push him to a quick decision the light that had guided him to this point had gone out. Only the light leaking through the door before him was left to illuminate the darkness but all he could do was stand and listen.  
At first there was nothing but then a faint noise. Scratching… and what sounded like paper rustling. The Warden shifted to look through the lighted crack, he could see the table on which he had woken up on during his first visit but nothing else could be seen. Again he shifted trying to see what all the scratching was about.  
  
It wasn’t easy to find the source of the sounds. From what he could see the door was lined up so it was impossible to see around the bookshelves and pillars.  
  
The Warden was starting to feel a little stupid. Childish was probably more fitting. Here was the Arl of Amaranthine, Commander of the Grey Wardens… peeping. Trying to catch a peek at the being within, and it wasn’t even a cute girl. It was a darkspawn!  
  
‘This is so ridiculous. Just go in and not stare like an idiot.’  
  
‘Why? So I can stare like an idiot where others may see me? Besides, what if this is a trap… this door can’t seal if I don’t go through it.’  
  
His mental argument was interrupted by a sudden movement, a flash of black between the book shelf and pillar. Narrowing his eyes he could see his summoner sitting in a chair in front of a work desk. It looked like the other was writing in a make shift journal. Then just as the Warden finally spotted the darkspawn the writing stopped and the figure turned his head to stare back at the human behind the door. From what he could see the masquerade style mask was in place.  
  
“Wouldn’t it be easier to observe if you came out from behind the door?” said the darkspawn in a smooth, civilized voice. It didn’t matter how many times the Warden heard it. There was just something so pleasant to hear. It had a ring to it like a voice of a village elder.  
  
There was wisdom in it, even comforting to some degree. Though at the same time that voice had a dark undertone, one that wasn’t easy to detect. In fact the Warden could recall a moment just before the fight with the Mother. When this creature was explaining himself the very tone changed from the scholar to a creature that would do anything to get what he wanted.  
  
_To break the cycle, my brethren must be freed of their compulsion. For that, **I need Grey Warden blood.**_  
  
“Commander.” The voice called again. No hurry in it. Just a gentle pull back to present.  
  
How did this creature know it was him and not another Grey Warden? Then again, this was no normal darkspawn so maybe he could tell the difference. Or this just proved without a doubt that all those dreams were caused by him. Just how strong was this creature? If it could reach the Fade and twist it to suit the desired purpose.  
  
Taking a breath the Warden raised a hand and pushed the door open. The ancient hinge gave a soft groan, instead of a creak like the heavy door at the entrance to the mine, a sound which he had expected. He stepped slowly into the chamber, his blue eyes felt drawn to the alter upon the platform overlooking the pit still filled with bodies. Turning back around as he rounded the first pillar he nearly walked into the darkspawn. His reflexes kicked in instinctively as he jumped away, half believing he was going to be attacked, but it never happened. Instead a grey palm with long clawed fingers was held up in a gesture of pause.  
  
“There is no need to be afraid. No harm shall come to you.”  
  
“Architect. I thought you were going to leave once the Mother was dead.” The Warden’s voice was calm, careful not to show any emotion.  
  
“And I am. I just needed to gather my notes first.” The Architect turned a little to gesture towards the work table.  
  
“Hmm…” The Warden glanced at the table, remembering that on his first visit he had taken a few of those notes. Memories of which he had no intention of remembering. He could feel the darkspawn staring at him, though studying was probably a better way of putting it, but it was still unnerving to be looked at so closely. He knew the look was more of observation then killer intent… but he didn’t know if the feeling of relief was the right thing to feel… instead of caution.  
  
He returned his gaze to the emissary who was a couple feet away, so he could make a few observations of his own. He never had a chance to really look at the creature before. The Architect was taller then him but only due to that odd head of his, though the robes were interesting to say the least. The complex combination of fabric and metal, especially around the rib cage and spine, were both mind blowing in detail and menacing.  
  
Unlike previous encounters the strap shoulder guards were missing. Without them, one could see just how thin this creature was, though that didn’t mean this creature wasn’t tough.  
  
“What happened to you?” The Warden broke the silence as his eyes were drawn to the darkspawn’s chest.  
  
Without looking down the Architect answered, “As was mentioned before, some of my brethren are flawed and raged against me.”  
  
The Warden approached the darkspawn, as if he hadn’t jumped away in fear just a moment ago. He brought a hand to that intricate rib cage and traced the skeletal design until he felt the metal take a sharp bend. It was hard to see at a distance, but up close it was apparent the Architect had freed a fellow darkspawn, in which it reacted badly to the point of actually taking a shot at him. It was on the Architect’s left side, third ‘rib’ from the bottom. The cloth, maybe leather, was torn in three gashes exposing a little of the torso underneath and the metal was bent out of the intended symmetrical design.  
  
Suddenly the warden seemed to forget what he was touching, as his mind decided it was more pressing to use all the experience from the past to figure out which breed of darkspawn was responsible for this.  
“It was a shriek, wasn’t it?” His blue eyes looked up through a dark strand of hair out of place.  
  
\--  
  
The Architect had not moved to stop the human. Instead had tilted his head down to watch the hand touching. How odd this human was. This was the reason behind the emissary’s lack of understanding when regarding humanity. Just when the darkspawn thought he had one figured out, the human does something completely opposite.  
  
“It was,” was all he could say. Yes, the Commander was a strange one... The Architect had expected that convincing this man to join forces would be next to impossible after the misunderstanding with the Withered.  
  
Grey Wardens were trained to kill darkspawn, so having them go against that nature was no small task, as was it the same for his own people. Yet… this Warden seemed to be open to possibilities while reasonably weary. Grayish lips curved upwards for a moment on one side as he came to the mental decision that when the Commander finally answered the Calling he would be there to see it. Things would be interesting to have this Warden convert.  
  
\--  
  
“What is so amusing?” The Warden said abruptly, bringing the Architect back to the situation at hand.  
  
“Nothing. Nothing at all. That was impressive to guess the creature based on an old wound.”  
  
“It helps when trying to figure out what it is you’re dealing with before you face it.” The hand dropped away and the Warden took a step back fixing **his** eyes on that mask. It had no eye holes… could the Architect truly see? He seemed too.  
  
“Why did you call me here?” The Warden asked getting back to the true purpose for this encounter.  
  
“To thank you for putting your trust where many would not. Also to ask what made you choose to do so.”  
  
The Warden walked away and climbed the steps towards the alter that lay parallel with the drop off. He ran his hand over the slab and the spikes lining the edges. Another memory came to life before his eyes. It was a memory of him waking for a moment to see the Architect standing over him. A memory of one of the few times in his life in which true vulnerability had set in like a chill that froze him to the bone. It had been one thing to be outnumbered, that had been expected; but to walk into a trap and having an unknown creature effectively drain both the others and himself of their strength and render them unconscious had been a lesson in helplessness. There hadn’t been a situation like that since Ostagar.  
  
Shaking his head to rid himself of those memories he turned around and moved to sit on the top step of the platform.  
  
“There have been times that I don’t even know the answer. Truly, had I known about your role in the Blight, my choice would have been very different. Perhaps, that was why you hid it. You knew that would reflect in my choice, didn’t you? You wanted to be judged on current events and not the past. Or maybe you just didn’t care,” The man pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, “That aside, I think it was the way you spoke of your goals. You come off as cold, calculated and cruel. Though in that moment the air changed,” folding his arms over his chest and looked back at the Architect, “You are very passionate in what you believe. Even being an outcast, you still desire to better the lives of the others. I may disagree with your methods but I can respect your determination,” ‘Besides,” He added to himself, ‘If I killed you who is to say another wouldn’t be brought into this world? Maybe that one would have a darker mindset.’  
  
“In short, no one whether it be human, dwarf, elf or darkspawn who fights for such a cause can be all that terrible. You work with what life has given you and the result can’t always be inoffensive.” He didn’t know if that really was the reason. If not, it must have been something words had difficultly describing. He knew that he could be wrong, that maybe his habit of finding that glimmer of good and trusting it to show in time had gone too far. Perhaps it only worked with other humans, dwarves and elves. However one didn’t know unless they took chances and his history in this field hadn’t led him astray yet.  
  
It wasn’t often the darkspawn was at a loss of what to say. The Architect turned away from the Warden and went back to the work table. He reached out to grasp the back of the chair and dragged it over to where his guest was. Sitting as well the two sat in silence. They both seem to be thinking of the Warden’s answer.  
  
“It would seem I owe you thanks for more then originally believed.” The more it replayed in his head that seemed to be true. The Architect had wanted someone to share his own desire to end the Blights and cycle of bloodshed between the darkspawn and Grey Wardens. In light of recent events it seemed he had not only found that but also someone who viewed himself as more then a tainted monster.  
  
“You do still intend to continue your work, right?” The question was a pathetic attempt to change the topic.  
  
Being that as it may, the Architect decided to humor the Warden, “That is my intention, yes.”  
  
“May I offer some advice?” Though it was true the darkspawn’s method was similar to the Joining, there was a possible flaw.  
  
The Architect seemed to show interest in this. The only thing that could have made it more obvious was if there was the perking up of ears.  
  
“Your means of freeing your brethren is based on the Joining ritual used by Grey Wardens...”  
  
“Go on,” The emissary leaned back in the chair listening intently.  
  
“The darkspawn, the rage against you, seem to be the equivalent of someone dying during our own ritual. The Grey Wardens may not be too concerned about the background behind a recruit but we are still very selective. We only take in the best and even then there is still a fifty percent chance they won’t make it. My advice is to be more selective with whom you free.” The Warden waited quietly as the other took in the suggestion. He privately thanked the Maker no one had followed him to this place. If they had, then he might be seen as a traitor. This could put his position in danger, but if he could convince this creature to at least consider what he was saying then the creation of another Mother could be avoided.  
  
The other’s movement caught his eye and he watched in curiosity as one of those hands came up and in a slow motion, and pulled that mask free. As one hand moved to place the mask on the Architect’s lap the other rose to rub the place it had been. When that handed dropped the Warden was stuck staring at the creature’s face.  
  
As had been expected the mask had been hiding some disfiguration. It looked like half of the face had melted and as a result one eye was lower then the other. A single fully opened black orb caught his gaze and held it. It felt like a hand had seized his heart and tracing the veins with one of those sharp finger nails. There was a strange hunger in that look. The Warden had seen it before in the eyes of many scholars; Brother Genitivi had it when he invested so much time to finding the Urn of Sacred Ashes.  
  
“Selective. What would be needed to look for?” With a blink the invisible hand released his heart allowing him to let go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding.  
  
“We look for a lot of characteristics,” ‘though lately I’ve been taking hand outs due to being short staffed’ he added silently, “Strength, determination, courage, a sense of brotherhood. Would they do well exposed to other cultures? Can they follow orders? But these are traits sought after for a Grey Warden. I am no expert in the behavior of darkspawn. Truly, all I could tell you is which one needed to be killed first in a fight. You would know more about their social lives. I don’t know if the darkspawn act differently enough to tell them apart as they search for the Old Gods. The biggest thing to look for is a sense of acceptance. Especially for the ones who were not born that way. If they return to themselves it can be a shock to see what they have become.”  
  
“You’re speaking of the Mother,” The Architect stood with mask in hand. The Warden thought he had said something wrong when the other turned away, chair and all, and went back to the work table and resumed what he had been doing while the Warden had been… peeping.  
  
‘Damn, did I really offend him?’ The confused man sat there with a comical look on his face as he fought with himself on what to do next. He figured things better be patched up before one of the two worst case scenarios happened 1) Utha springs up and beats him for upsetting her friend, or 2) he becomes a burning addition to the bodies below.  
  
Standing, and after narrowly avoiding tripping down the stairs, the Warden made his way over to where the other sat. He moved slowly while making just enough noise so not to sneak up on the darkspawn.  
  
‘What are you, Alistair? You couldn’t sneak up on the Architect even if you tried. Remember? The taint?’ Sometimes he could swear the little voice in the back of his head sounded more and more like Morrigan in times like this.  
  
Deciding to ignore his inner witch, he opted to stand by the darkspawn. The scratching of quill on parchment drew his curiosity as he leaned in over the other’s shoulder.  
  
‘How did he learn to write? Speaking, I can see being picked up easily but writing? There’s only so much one can learn from books.’ The handwriting was neat and eloquent. It was the script of someone who spent quite a bit of time writing.  
  
“Listen,” the Warden started, “…I…if something was said that was offensive to you, I apologize, that wasn’t my intent.” The sound of writing didn’t stop nor was there any sign the other even heard him. The Architect had effectively ended the conversation for today, sighing he turned to leave.  
  
Moving to walk away he was stopped by a tug on his right arm. The scratching for the quill remained unchanged but sure enough there was this large grey hand with those long fingers tipped in blacks claws wrapped around his arm just below the elbow. Looking back the emissary was still as he had been mere moments ago.  
  
The silence continued, the only interaction between the two was the Warden making an attempt to free his arm only to be answered with the Architect’s grip tightening.  
  
The armor was the only thing protecting him from a hand shaped bruise, but those wicked nails caught the leather covering the joint. The fabric in its worn state began to give allowing the nails a path to the Warden’s skin. With another tightening the nail dug into the soft flesh, cutting it. When the sensation registered the muscles instinctively tensed caused the nail to go deeper. Quickly he grabbed the nail in question and tried to pull it away from the angry flesh.  
  
\--  
  
Through all his fussing the Warden didn’t notice the quill had been abandoned and once more he was the subject of attention. All the man could focus on was the task at hand, and that was to get the spike out of him.  
Another squeeze, the Warden hissed. The darkspawn, content with watching until now, pulled back that hand pulling the human along with it.  
  
“Calm yourself, Commander.” The dark haired head snapped up meeting that blackened gaze. The emissary looked down and pulled the man’s arm closer. Adjusting the hold so the wound was visible and the human still could not pull free. He brought a second hand to the arm held captive and slowly began unfastening the straps that held the armor in place. Within a minute the Architect had removed the Warden’s armor from the elbow down. The hand holding the human in place slide down to grasp the back of the wrist.  
  
\--  
  
The Warden watched with tentative interest as this darkspawn examined the damaged flesh. He fought to suppress a shudder from those hands running over his exposed skin. Since the time he had become a part of the order there had been a few darkspawn that had touched him. But those had always been vicious swiped and grabs to rip meat from bone.  
  
This was very different. The touch was mostly gentle; the temperature gap between the two appendages worked to sooth any remaining pain. The Architect’s thumb rubbed against the wound smearing blood up onto the grey skin. This exposed the torn flesh for both to see. It was hardly life threatening but it was deep considering about half of the darkspawn’s long nail had been digging into the flesh.  
  
The Warden made these soft noises similar to whimpers each time the embers of pain seemed to be stroked,  
  
“I was writing down what you said.” The emissary said suddenly.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You had the impression I was angered by what you said. I wasn’t. I merely wanted to writing down what was said.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
The blood covered thumb was brought to the Architect’s attention. The dark red beads clinging to the grey flesh had a purple look to them. It was too little to release any of his brethren but too much to waste. Without any hesitation the emissary took the digit into his mouth, cleaning off the blood with his tongue.  
  
The blood was swished back and forth rolling it over the taste buds much like how a connoisseur would wine. It was a metallic taste with an undertone of the taint; it was weak when compared to his own. Faint or not, the blood had an unforeseen reaction in this darkspawn. Something called out to his baser instincts that his brethren display so vividly. It was a foreign feeling that he would have liked to investigate farther but for the moment he willed it back lest he become what he was born apart from. Growling low in his throat he released the thumb now clean of blood the Architect pressed the same digit against the wound to apply pressure. It came to some surprise when the wound began to glow and the arm was enveloped with the warmth of energy mending the flesh together.  
  
“I thought darkspawn didn’t know healing magic.” The Warden whispered not wanting to break the concentration of the spell.  
  
“Not usually. If given enough time out bodies regenerate giving us no reason to learn such spells. While that leaves myself with no use for it there are cases where I come across those I don’t wish death upon.” When the last word rolled off that tongue the glow dissipated. No pain remained when that thumb rubbed the skin looking for anything missed.  
  
“I’m grateful.” The Warden mumbled as the hairs on his arm stood up from the other’s touch.  
  
He opened his hand comparing it to the darkspawn’s. The Architect took this as an invitation and lightly dragged a nail over the lines crisscrossing over the Warden’s hand like palm reader would searching for some secret hidden in the lines of the past and future.  
  
While the darkspawn was content with tracing all the blue/purple veins just beneath nearly transparent skin, a gloved hand, seemingly forgotten until now, gently followed the lines of the gold symbol on the Architect’s forehead.  
Black eyes shifted to look up at the Warden not moving to stop him nor did the darkspawn cease touching the human’s arm.  
  
The Warden moved over the dark surface and even with the glove on he could tell the texture was rough with many divets. Then he hand moved down over the junction where the hard surface met the gray smooth skin. The difference between the two types was amazing, especially on one body.  
  
He followed the warped features around the eye that appeared to be sinking under the other. The Warden could feel that gaze on him and those nails running over his skin. It was a strangely intimate moment for so little happening. It was what a couple would do if all they wanted was to be near and touching each other. Two would be enemies letting all guards down and exploring each other out of mutual curiosity and interest.  
  
Without warning a shape came into view so close to his face it was blurred. The Warden flinched leaning his head back until the object was in focus. Bare arm left to fall back to the human’s side and now that darkspawn’s hand was in front of his face.  
  
It wasn’t the most comfortable feeling to have those claws so close to the eyes. Closing them he willed that feeling away. Now wasn’t the time to be nervous.  
  
Thoughts were silenced as a soft touch just below the lips worked to smooth away the look of discomfort that must have been on his face.  
  
If felt like he was being touched in two places, the face and his arm which although wasn’t actually being touched he could still feel the tingling of these invisible lines etched into his skin like some unknown spell.  
  
The Architect moved his hand up to the Warden’s brow and slowly mimicked the pattern of tracing the lines of the forehead then going around the eyes. Blue orbs closed as those nails ran over the thin eyelids.  
  
“You act like you’ve never touched a human before.” The Warden commented started to have those uncomfortable feelings creep back.  
  
The darkspawn’s hand moved its exploration to the man’s neck. The human shivered when the hairs on the back of his neck were played with, “I’ve never touched one that wasn’t either dead or unconscious… or afraid of me,” the emissary ran the pad of a finger over the adam’s apple along the throat to make way to the breastplate of the scale armor. He studied the small nicks and scratched in each little scale and the etched design around the would-be collar, “It is a… pleasant change.”  
  
\--  
  
The Warden turned his head to the door as if expecting something or someone to walk through but it never happened, “Expecting more company?”  
  
The darkspawn turned to the door as well, “No.”  
  
The roaming hand was placed on the Warden’s shoulder as the Architect stood and brushed by the human. The man turned back to the work table to retrieve the glove, fastening it back into place with practiced ease, as he had everything back in place in a fraction of the time it had taken the emissary to remove it.  
  
Catching up to the Architect as the darkspawn pulled open the door the torches on the wall flickered back to life lighting only a small section of the bleak gloom.  
  
There was no doubt that the new presence was Darkspawn as well but the question was: where they allies or enemies of his host? If they were enemies then the Warden was a beacon and couldn’t get out without a fight. But what if they were allies? The Architect had been alone from the start, was the Warden’s appearance suppose to remain unknown?  
  
“Are they yours?” The Warden asked focusing on the presence.  
  
“Hard to say. Being released from their chains does not change the feel of their presence.” The Architect moved back into the lab for a moment going to the corner of book shelves. Picking up an old tomb it was opened and the darkspawn pulled out a pendant. There was nothing distinctive about the design, just appeared to be a sort of obsidian crystal on a blackened chain.  
  
“Unfortunately… It would seem our meeting as drawn to a close.” The emissary said while debating what should be done from here.  
  
“Pity. It was an… enjoyable conversation.” The Warden replied not watching his host but the dark prison in front of him listening for any sign of the other visitors.  
  
An unseen half smile turned up the lips of the darkspawn, “Agreed. Perhaps in time we may do this again,” by that time the Architect hoped to have figured out what that strange feeling the Warden’s blood had sparked within him was.  
  
“That’s possible. Just… stay out of my dreams, please. I finally have figured out how to block out the nightmares I’m plagued with. Don’t want to lose more sleep then I do already.” Truthfully, the Warden had figured that out some time ago. He just found it disturbing how the emissary could influence his mind so easily.  
  
“That was the best method available to me that would ensure the message was delivered to you and no one else. However, should another way present itself that will be given a chance. I make no promises.” Of course, the darkspawn would actually look or pay attention to that other way even if it came along.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
Turning the Architect came up behind the Warden lifting the necklace and putting it on the man from behind, “Wear this. It will make you invisible to detection. Though I can not stress enough that you remove and destroy it once out of the woods and back on the road.” The voice was grave and full of warning.  
  
The Warden didn’t like that sound, “What… would happen if I didn’t?” the thought of being undetectable was a seductive one.  
  
The answer given wasn’t what he was expecting. A hand clamped down around his jaw roughly pulling his head back with claws digging into his cheeks. Instinctively he tried to turn his head to break the grip. When that failed he reached to pull the hand away only to have another grab his wrist, “There are certain… side effects,” The Warden’s head was pressed against the Architect’s shoulder.  
  
Try as one might there didn’t seem to be any easy way out of this. The Warden could only watch the muscles in the darkspawn’s arm shift seamlessly working to turn the human’s head to the side exposing his neck to the creature.  
  
“Do you understand?” Each lungful of air carried a word over the warden’s skin. Each breath rolled over the flesh as if the other was still touching him like before.  
  
“I do.” The answer was spoken carefully so not to allow the shudders into his voice, “Please, let go.”  
  
“Give your oath,” the Architect knew that the pendant’s power was tempting. That was why he wanted the Commander’s word. The Warden was the sort to always keep his word, “ **Swear it.** ”  
  
There it was again, that drop in tone. It was the closest thing to a hiss he had ever heard. Now it was sending chills down his spine especially spoken only inches from his ear, “You have my word. It will be destroyed as soon as the road is reached. I swear.” To his relief his jaw was released as was his wrist.  
  
The Architect wasn’t done just yet though. Allowing the Warden a moment to himself, “My apologies,” careful to use the fingertips and not the sharp nails the emissary cupped the human’s chin slowly pulling him to turn his head to face him.  
  
Eyes did not meet, there wasn’t a chance to, there was only a low murmur about sealing a deal before the Warden found himself with his lips pressed against the Architect’s. It was impossible to describe the expression in the poor Commander’s face. Thankfully, it wasn’t a particularly involved kiss, though he was sure that the shock had rendered him unable to respond anyway. There was a metal taste on the darkspawn’s lips.  
  
‘My blood…’ the Warden’s mind filled in.  
  
The kiss only lasted about a minute but he was still focused on the cool lips… nibbling on him when they pulled away.  
  
“Wha… why…Explain the purpose behind that. Now.” The human stumbled over his words as a blush of embarrassment appeared on the usually calm Warden. He pulled away, not stopped.  
  
“Sealing our agreement. That is how your people do such things, isn’t it?” The emissary actually looked confused.  
  
“How my peop-Who have you been talking to?!” The warden may have said that louder then needed, “Most people sign a document or shake hands. But a kiss… that seals a VERY different sort of agreement.” The human was starting to shake with frustration.  
  
The darkspawn just blinked. He looked like a child who gotten two ideas mixed up and didn’t understand the mistake, “It seems I’ll have to look into that more thoroughly.”  
  
“Just forget it. What’s done is done,” ‘to my horror,’ “I’ll do as you say, that won’t change.”  
  
If the emissary was going to reply it was cut off by a crash in the next room. Apparently the new visitors had made a substantial amount of progress during all the ‘confusion’.  
  
“You should leave,” The darkspawn said calmly.  
  
“Alright, I guess until we meet again.” The Warden replied sharply.  
  
Turning to the door the human ran into the darkness hiding near one of the cells until what ever the other creatures were passed him. ‘They can’t sense me but I can still sense them wonderful,’ he thought sneaking by the group as quietly so not to alert them.  
  
Once he managed to grope his way out of the prison and by the others a single torch lit. It moved with him to clear the path to the exit.  
  
It didn’t even bother him that he had not tried to get a look at the new darkspawn. All that mattered was to get out, return to the keep, and avoid the social etiquette confused Architect for at leased the next thirty years.  
  
\--  
  
It didn’t take more then a couple hours before the road came into view from the trees. The clanks and thuds of the Warden running were all he could hear next to the heavy breathing.  
  
Resting against the last tree he caught his breath while basking in his good luck that nothing followed him nor was there anything lying in wait for him.  
  
“I wonder… were they friend of foe. If I see the Architect again I’ll ask I suppose.”  
  
Removing the pendant from around his neck he looked at it for a little while rolling it around in his hand.  
  
_Destroy it once out of the woods._  
  
_You’ll suffer certain side effects._  
  
Clearing the mind with a shake a smile appeared on his lips, “I gave my word. This helped me safely escape harm but the usefulness has come to an end… I gave me word.” Pushing off the tree the Commander looked for a large smooth rock along side of the road. Taking care to dusk off the stone he placed the necklace down upon it while unsheathing his sword.  
  
It felt good to hold the family blade; he gave a graceful spin in one hand to adjust his grip. Tightening the hold he raised the blade high up and put all his strength into plunging the steel into the pendant shattering it, causing pieces to spread out.  
  
Whatever magic had been infused into the amulet was released and as it escaped from the settling crystal fragments lost there blackened color in favor of a pure clear look.  
  
With the swing of that blade the promise had been fulfilled.  
  
Taking one last look at the forest the Grey Warden Commander started back to the Vigil determined to not answer another summons sent to him via the Fade.


End file.
